Truthfully
by corneroffandom
Summary: After Alberto Del Rio wins the World title, Ricardo Rodriguez ponders his words.


"Ricardo, mi amigo, join me," Alberto calls over abruptly, surprising the ring announcer. He'd won the World Heavyweight Championship barely two hours earlier and is already being risked through interviews and photo ops and so many other things that Ricardo's head is spinning just trying to keep up with the people surrounding him.

The clock is ticking closer to 1 AM and Ricardo feels both exhausted and pleased for his employer, but he steadies himself and does as he'd requested, amazed when the new champion loops an arm around his shoulder and includes him in a few of the pictures, his exurberance rejuvenating Ricardo enough to not completely look ridiculous in those pictures when he sees them later. After a couple more, he excuses himself and goes back to wandering around the set, mind racing with numerous thoughts as he pulls his bowtie off, relieved at the bit more comfort that provides him. There had also been an After the Bell segment during which he'd stood nearby and listened as Alberto spoke of the Miami crowd, and very rarely, if at all, spoke merely of _himself._ His words were full of _us _and _we_, his inclusion of Ricardo in every aspect of this shocking the ring announcer. Yes, his employer's attitude towards him, and, well, to everything, had changed a great deal over the past few weeks, but _this?_ It leaves him feeling uncomfortable, strange.

Finally everything begins to die down, the staff bustling off to upload the pictures to the website and anywhere else they see fit, and Alberto rejoins Ricardo, wrapping an arm once more around his shoulders. The title around his waist glows almost as much as his face as he marvels in his victory, finally left alone long enough to fully indulge in it. "Mi amigo," he exclaims, "I know we are to go home to Tampa soon, but I want to celebrate our victory. Come, let's get ready to go, si?"

Ricardo nods, despite his mind still being stuck on _that_, those two little words_._ '_Our victory._' He should not second guess Del Rio, he knows that the man has his own logic towards everything, but it just feels off to him. He had done very little in that match, only just able to revive him a time or two with water stolen from the announcer's table, and all of the punishment had been taken by Alberto himself, so he's confused why exactly his employer keeps claiming this as a joint victory.

It must show on his face because Alberto slows abruptly halfway to their locker room and stops him, a warm hand on his arm. "Ricardo, is something the matter? You are not generally this quiet after I've won a major match, mi amigo." Ricardo's gaze flickers up to him briefly before he looks away, almost ashamed. Alberto's eyes narrow as he takes in this reaction and pulls his ring announcer closer to him. "Ricardo, did something happen? ... Somebody do something to you?"

"No, no," he refutes quickly, not wanting the older man to feel the need to go on a rampage against some unknown assailant for nothing, and risk ruining his successful evening. "Nothing like that, El Patron." Some of the tension fades from Del Rio but he doesn't move, his eyes do not leave Ricardo's face. He swallows, knowing that he won't be getting out of this one any time soon. "You..." He licks his lips, not wanting to speak erroneously and risk offending his friend, treading very carefully as he continues finally. "You keep including me whenever you talk about being champion, like the belt is partially mine. I'm not deserving of this, it's your belt, your victory."

Alberto looks dumbfounded for a moment until finally he sighs, patting Ricardo on the jaw. "Mi amigo," he shakes his head. "It _is _our victory. I would not be where I am right now without your loyalty and dedication the past few years. Anyone else would've tired of me long ago and quit, or got themselves purposely fired, but you, you remained as steadfast as ever, accepting all that I ever did or said against you like it was nothing." His eyes darken with shame and regret when Ricardo looks down, trying not to reflect on those days. "When that perro Big Show began targetting you," he continues, voice sounding strained and weary for the first time since his win earlier that night, "I knew I couldn't let it stand. As much as I've hungered to be World Champion for the last two years, it was _your_ presence, _your_ actions tonight that kept me in the match. I could barely move sometimes, but I would see you or hear you encouraging me, and somehow get back to my feet in time."

The ring announcer, captivated by all of this, stares up at him, humbled and floored as Del Rio unclasps the newly plated title belt from around his waist and presses it to Ricardo's shoulder, waiting until the younger man reaches up and holds it in place, a reverent look on his face as he peers at his employer's name sprawled across the impressive title. "El Patron..."

"We are a team, Ricardo," he tells him quietly. "You may not realize just how much you helped me tonight, and long before, but it is the truth. _We_ are the World Heavyweight Champions. Si?"

Ricardo stares at the belt for long, quiet moments before closing his eyes, allowing himself to accept the words, believe in it. Turning finally to look once more at the Mexican aristocrat, he smiles. "Si."


End file.
